Chances
by Biohazardous Fears
Summary: Every single person in Raccoon City had a chance to escape. For a timid young 20 year old, the chances seem low. But God works in mysterious ways… Completely OC, a more realistic telling of a potential surviver's trek through the infamous necropolis of Raccoon City.


Hello and welcome! My name is Sammi and I have taken QUITE the break from fan fiction, I'm back now and after growing as a writer I feel like I can provide a better experience now they I could before. Unforunatly those who followed my series "Eyes Can't Lie" and and her prequel, "Eyes Now Sinned" I don't plan on continuing that plot. However if I do I am going to be re-writing the whole thing from scratch. I hope you enjoy this short into/prology-y chapter, let me know what you guys like and dislike in the Reviews!

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Carrie sat quietly in her apartment; huddled behind the mass of furniture she constructed to block the door. The only source of light was a small candle; of sound, her emergency radio. For minutes at a time the only sound emitted from the orange box was an eerie monotonous static, until the standard emergency tone shrieked into the silence:

"This is a urgent message from the Raccoon City Police Department. Due to an epidemic of an unknown pathogen, all citizens are requested to remain indoors. Do not attempt to leave, the Raccoon Police Force is evacuating sections of the city-"

Carrie shut off the radio before the message could finish; she'd heard it time and time again. The illness emerged only a day and a half ago, but the RPD had issued an order for marshal law almost immediately, before any residents of the city could stock up on supplies. There was no more food or safe water in the small apartment, and Carrie wasn't going to drink the tap. No one knew how the infection spread, and Carrie wasn't going to take any chances. But, Carrie knew she did not have much of a choice, she could stay and die of dehydration and starvation – or she could do the unthinkable and leave the safety of her barricaded apartment. Neither option sounded ideal to Carrie, but she didn't want to die. She knew she wouldn't last much longer trapped in her little safe haven, but she had no idea how long she could last in the open.

The infected where everywhere, Carrie had never seen one, but she sure heard them. The moans, scuffling, and the screams of their victims radiated into the silent stagnate air. There had been gunshots over the night, civilians trying to escape the apartment building, to no avail. Carrie could hear their cries for mercy as the dead devoured them alive. She had no gun to defend herself with, only pepper spray and a pocketknife; useless weapons on creatures that could take bullet after bullet after bullet. Deep down, Carrie felt nothing but emptiness, fear, and an emotion she knew no way of describing. The young woman tilted her head to the floor, allowing her dark red tresses to cover her face, her grey eyes closed and stung and burned from the fatigue of a sleepless night. Frustrated, with a life or death ultimatum that could only be a lose-lose: Carrie sobbed silently. It was not the first time she had over the course of the infection, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

She knew she had no choice, that a sliver of a chance was better then no chance at all, but the outside was dangerous. There was no guarantee that she could even make it down the three flights of stairs to the ground floor, let along find food, shelter, water and actually survive. She had waited and waited and waited for the evacuation the RPD had promised, but she began to doubt that they were coming at all. Carrie looked up and brushed her wavy hair out of her face, gathering every once of courage she could possible have, she stood up, and blew out her candle. According to the small watch she had on her wrist, it was a little past nine am. Every single step Carrie took toward her window felt like marathon, her body trying to bolt back into the corner of the kitchen by the door she was in only moments before, but in only a few seconds Carrie was only inches away from her dark curtains that protected her from the outside world. The sound of her heart thumping wildly in her chest almost scared her to death alone, let alone what she might see on the other side of the glass.

A single finger slowly pulled away at the side of curtain, revealing the beautiful warm morning sun, and the true devastation and extent of the massacre that this infection caused. Despite Carrie thinking she hadn't slept a wink the whole night, she suddenly realized she must have: the massive car accident involving several police cars was blocking the road, and must have been very loud. Then, suddenly her eyes spotted movement, and she saw it. Them. Shock ran through her veins, her entire being went cold, and logical thinking got away from her almost as fast as her last meal did. The infected had gaping, crusted over, bloody, horrific wounds. Skin missing and blood and entrails hanging from their mouths, Carrie was on her knees, with her last meal of cold-out-of-the-can Chef Boyardee all over the floor. Suddenly, the idea of staving to death alone sounded like a better idea then going outside.


End file.
